The Living Arrangement (Spideypool)
by livin-in-my-head
Summary: When Wade Wilson finds himself down on his luck, he moves in with Peter Parker. What could go wrong? / Rated Teen for sexual innuendos / I fixed the issue with code showing up between lines :)
1. Author's Note (IMPORTANT INFO)

READ FOR THE NEW BACKSTORIES FOR WADE AND PETER

I first published this story when "Spider-Man: Homecoming" was so new that there wasn't a category yet. Please leave a comment if you've noticed that there is now a "Homecoming" category. Thanks! :)

This story and its charaters are based off of the movie "Spider-Man: Homecoming," released 2017. It is NOT based on the comics. Also, any love interests/in-depth plot lines from the comic books or even movies themselves for the characters are disregarded in this particular fic. I only write freeform (so far), so bear with me here :)

UPDATED BACKSTORIES

In this alternate universe, Peter and Wade are sixteen at the same time and attend the same high school. This story takes place over summer break between freshmen and sophomore year. I should make it clear that I have absolutely no problem with scars, and wouldn't have removed Wade's from the story, but Wade likely wouldn't have returned home or continued going to school if he knew he was going to be gossiped about and mocked from all sides.

 **Peter Parker**

His backstory is unchanged. However, none of his classic supervillains have seen the light of day yet. For now, he deals with petty theft and the like.

 **Wade Wilson**

Wade didn't feel the need to go after Francis after his torturous treatment because he was left unscarred. His full altered backstory will be shared in the story :)


	2. Chapter One

Wade Wilson was tall, a few inches over six feet, with blonde hair and blue eyes - the works. He was usually dressed incredibly casually, in rather dirty or even ripped clothing, and he simply didn't care about his grades or whether or not he had any friends. It was a widely agreed fact throughout his high school that the only way he would ever become anything other than homeless was through the military.

Even knowing all of this, Peter Parker was surprised to see him sleeping in an alleyway.

There was no mistaking that Wade was a full-time resident of this particular alley. After all, he had a bed of blankets set up and next to him…was that a _gun?_ Peter's eyes widened as he slowed to take in the incredibly strange sight. He had been walking to the library for some new books, but was now completely distracted.

Wade was fast asleep on top of the blankets. Feeling terrible for leaving Wade like that but not wanting to interfere with… _whatever_ was going on, Peter hurried onward, strictly library-bound.

Wade Wilson was muscular, with a devillish smile he could turn charming in a second and a pair of dimples to match, sometimes giving him an innocent look when everyone knew he was anything but. Peter had spent months ignoring the flutter that his heart made whenever Wade passed him, mostly because Wade was more than just the school's resident "bad boy" - he was legitimately dangerous. There were rumors that he had killed people, and frankly, Peter didn't doubt most of them.

So he hadn't stopped by the alley, because he and Wade weren't friends, as much as a small part of Peter wanted to be.

The next day, on Peter's way to the grocery store, Wade was still there. Today, he was awake and staring pensively at the wall across the alley. He didn't look insane, merely thoughtful. Peter swallowed his nervousness and called out shakily, "Wade?"

/So much for good first impressions./ He cursed himself silently.

Wade raised his head, looking over at Peter. "Peter?" he asked, confused.

/He knows my name!/a small part of Peter exclaimed before the rest of him shoved it ruthlessly down.

"Welcome to my palace," Wade said, spreading his arms. His expression was so sincere that Peter almost wondered if he was being serious.

"Are…do you live here?" he asked stupidly.

"Yeah. My parents kinda-sorta got arrested and I made a break for it before they could get something on me, too." Wade grinned a dangerous, wolfish grin and Peter knew with utter certainty that he meant every word.

So there /was/ something Wade was hiding.

"Do you need anything?" Peter asked nervously, half hoping the answer was yes despite his apprehension at the thought of helping someone like Wade. What would a boy like that want, anyway? Alcohol? Drugs?

"There is something, actually," Wade said leisurely, standing and stretching. Peter tried as hard as he could to keep his eyes from straying to the strip of the boy's stomach that was exposed by his shirt lifting up. "A place to crash for a few nights, a job, and food. Mexican food, specifically."

Peter blinked, taken aback at the rapid-fire request list. He was about to make up some excuse for why he couldn't help Wade, why he had to get going right now -

Wade met his gaze and smiled, this time completely sincerely.

"Come with me," Peter heard himself saying.

A half hour later, Peter was on the phone with Aunt May outside of a Taco Bell. She was currently ranting his ear off.

"How could you just /invite/ a random boy to come live with us? I've never even heard of him! And his parents were /arrested?/ Doesn't that seem a bit sketchy to you?"

"Aunt May," Peter finally managed to squeeze in.

"What?" she snapped.

"He's a friend." A lie, but whatever. He had lied to his aunt in the past and he would have to do it again. "He's just going to sleep on our couch or something until he can get on his feet. Then he'll be gone."

There was a long silence on the other end of the call before Aunt May sighed noisily. "/Fine/," she muttered. "Maybe /my/ kindness will be the death of me." She hung up before Peter could thank her.

He turned back and saw Wade cheerily waving at him through the large glass window of the Taco Bell, mouth full of Mexican food as per request.

Peter sighed and slipped his phone back into his sweatshirt pocket as he reentered the fast food restaurant.

"Listen," he said sternly as he slid into the booth across from Wade. "You are going to be insanely polite. Like, politer than you've ever been to /anyone./ Otherwise, my aunt will kick you out in a heartbeat. Also, I saw your handgun out in the alley. Absolutely no guns in the house or, again, my aunt will call the police. You'll be sleeping on our couch, and your goal is to get on your feet as fast as humanely possible. Got it?"

Wade grinned cockily. "Dominant. I like it."

Peter felt blood rushing to his cheeks. Was Wade seriously /flirting/ with him? He sighed, shaking his head as he stood. It meant nothing. Wade was like this constantly, to everyone. /Oh, Aunt May's gonna hate him.../ "Come on."

Wade stood and suddenly gripped Peter in a hug. Shocked, Peter instinctively pushed away, but Wade was too strong.

"Thanks," Wade whispered. "You rock, man." He released Peter just as quickly as he had grabbed him. Peter staggered backwards, staring at Wade with wide eyes. Not only had the hug been entirely unexpected, but since being bitten by that spider, he had never met someone who was stronger than he was. He should have easily been able to push away from that hug.

It was a strange feeling. He had forgotten what it was like, to be weak.

Peter marched ahead of Wade for the rest of the return trip home, hands shoved in his pockets. What was he /doing?/ This was stupid, so stupid. But seeing Wade sleeping in that alley…completely unprotected…

Peter remembered about a year ago, when Wade had been diagnosed with cancer. The crazy thing was, the guy had /kept coming to school./ Peter had actually once worked up the courage to ask him why he persisted like that.

Wade had grinned shakily - at that point, he did everything shakily - and had replied, "They feed me here."

Peter could only imagine a home life so terrible that a kid with cancer, the mother of all diseases, persisted in coming to school because otherwise, he wouldn't eat. To the best of Peter's knowledge, Wade hadn't even received any treatment.

That is, until the summer between middle and high school. Wade had made a full recovery somehow, and was back, even better than before. It was the weirdest thing…

"You walk pensively," Wade called, and Peter stiffened. He tried to relax, but now he was acutely aware of how he must look - his hands shoved into his pockets, head hunched…

"It's cute," Wade told him teasingly. Peter squeezed his eyes shut.

/Why/ had he done this?!


	3. Chapter Two

"Aunt May! We're home!" Peter called as he and Wade entered his aparment.

Aunt May emerged from her bedroom slowly, eyeing Wade suspiciously. "Hello," she said slowly. Peter braced himself for whatever rude or inappropriate comment Wade was about to make. Maybe this would all be over before it even began.

"Hello, ma'am," Wade greeted her cordially. Peter's jaw dropped. He hastily closed it as Aunt May glanced over at him and tried to look unsurprised.

Wade moved forward and extended his hand for a handshake, smiling openly all the while. "It's nice to meet you."

"Nice to meet you, too," Aunt May replied unsurely as she shook his hand.

"I hate to be such an inconvenience," Wade said apoligetically. "Thank you so much for being so kind. I'm kind of at a rough point. I don't know what I would have done without you two."

Aunt May smiled gently at him, a real smile, and Peter sighed with relief. Her maternal instincts were kicking in. Wade was in the clear. "We'll fix up the couch for your bed," she told him warmly. "And trust me, this is absolutely no trouble." A lie, Peter knew, but hopefully, they wouldn't be putting up with Wade for long.

"Do you have a laptop?" Wade asked Peter as Aunt May disappeared into her bedroom to grab extra blankets. His voice had returned to its normal aloofness.

Peter eyed him suspiciously. "Why?"

"To search for porn. I wanna start looking for jobs," Wade replied dryly.

Peter shrugged, taken aback by how quickly Wade could change personalities. "Okay. It's in my bedroom. I'll go grab it." He hurried into his bedroom and grabbed his laptop from where it was charging on his desk. As he powered it on, he turned around and instinctively jumped back at the sight of Wade standing directly behind him, too close for comfort.

"What?" the boy asked innocently.

He was much taller than Peter, the latter boy realized. Peter had known he was tall, but not /this/ tall - a good four or five inches taller. Peter swallowed and focused on his laptop.

When he had it set up on Google, he handed it to Wade. Wade settled onto Peter's bed and began reading.

Peter stared at him for a moment. /Wade Wilson is in my bedroom./ Sentences he never expected to think.

Someone knocked at the door and he heard Aunt May answer it. "Peter!" she called after a second. "It's Ned!"

Ned Leeds was Peter's best (and only) friend and the only person he had told when he had started to question his sexuality - thanks to Wade, he might add. He was going to _freak out_ when Peter told him what was happening. Peter could hardly believe it himself.

He walked out of his bedroom, casting a glance over his shoulder at Wade nervously as he did so. He wondered if he should be worried about Wade stealing anything from him, then decided that there was nothing in his nerdy bedroom that the rough-and-tumble boy could possibly find interesting.

Ned was at the door, smiling widely. "Hey, dude," he greeted Peter as Aunt May returned to setting up the couch-bed for Wade.

"We need to talk," Peter said tightly, lowering his voice and pulling Ned into the hallway, the smile slowly disappearing from the latter's face.

"So you remember Wade Wilson?" he started, stopping immediately at the expression on Ned's face. "That is the _least_ casual expression I've ever seen, if that's what you were aiming for."

Ned held up his hands. "Sorry, but this guy's a big deal. I've seen the way you look at him - "

"Shut _up_!" Peter hissed, glancing over his shoulder to ensure that neither his aunt or, worse, Wade had heard.

Ned shook his head as if silently berating himself. "Sorry."

Peter opened his mouth to explain the situation entirely when something behind him made his friend's eyes widen so far that he looked like a cartoon character. Peter spun on his heels, already knowing what he would see.

"Hey, Ned!" Wade exclaimed cheerily from the doorway, where he was leaning against the doorframe with his hands in his pockets. "Long time no see. Guess what? Peter and I are roomies now!"

Ned gaped like a dying fish and Peter knew exactly how he felt..

"You've made a lot of stupid decisions, but this? Takes the cake," Ned growled, pacing back and forth across Peter's floor. "Not telling anyone when you got bitten by that radioactive spider? Pretty freaking dumb. Not telling anyone when you started to experience strange powers? Not quite as stupid, but still on the spectrum. Choosing to use these powers to put yourself in peril basically every single day? _Even worse_. But inviting" - Ned lowered his voice - "the dude who basically turned you not-straight to _live with you?_ One of you is gonna snap."

"I'm not going to even touch the 'turned you not-straight' thing, but what is _that_ supposed to mean, we're 'gonna snap?'" Peter demanded. Ned shrugged, raising his hands noncommitally.

Peter sighed, running a hand over his face. "Look," he said. "You shoulda seen how he was living. It was awful. He was living on a pile of blankets, Ned. God knows what he was eating - "

Ned snorted in disbelief at his friend defending Wade. "Whatever," he said tightly, holding up his hands. "I won't judge my best friend's crappy life decisions."

"What did you come over for, Ned?" Peter asked, extremely tired of this conversation.

"Just to hang out," Ned said quietly after a moment.

Peter nodded. It would be good to get his mind off of things, at least temporarily. "Okay. How about - "

"Yo, guys!" Wade called from the living room. Peter squeezed his eyes shut tightly, as if this was a nightmare he could make dissipate by doing so, even though he knew this was his reality. Then he opened them - sure enough, nothing had changed - and headed into the living room after Ned.

The TV was on, broadcasting a news station. Peter hadn't pegged Wade for a news-watcher, but that was the least of his concerns as he stared in horror at footage of a bank getting robbed.

Peter groaned inwardly. /Time to call out Spider-Man./ "Jeez," he said neutrally. "That's awful."

"Hey, Peter," Ned said suddenly, as if he had just remembered something. "Didn't you wanna show me something?"

Peter nodded, casting a grateful look at his friend, and hurried into his bedroom with Ned close on his heels. Aunt May was already in her room, so luckily she wouldn't feel the need to discuss the tragedy with her nephew, something she occasionally did.

In his bedroom, Peter wasted no time in stripping down to his underwear. "Where did I put my suit?" he muttered, glancing around his bedroom.

"You go do your thing, Spider-Man," Ned muttered. He stood, held up a hand in farewell, and left.

Peter searched frantically around his room for his costume, completely forgetting to close the door. That is, until he saw someone lean against the doorframe out of the corner of his eye. Peter glanced up and startled at the sight of Wade.

"Jesus, Wade - "

Wade grinned. "What exactly were you _showing_ Ned?"

"You're disgusting. What the hell are you _doing_?" Peter demanded as Wade remained unmoving, simply watching Peter. He grabbed his pants from the floor and started tugging them on to at least be somewhat clothed.

"Letting you know that I'm going to a job interview," Wade said casually.

"Wow, already?" Peter asked, buttoning his jeans. Perhaps this would all be over sooner than he had anticipated.

Wade nodded. "Yup." He glanced up and down Peter once more. "Have fun with…whatever this is." He shrugged and left.

Peter firmly closed his door, face burning as he finally found his Spider-Man suit tucked away under a pile of clothing in his closet. He pulled off his pants, yanked on the costume, and crawled out of his window without a moment of hesitation.


	4. Chapter Three

There were hostages in the bank. Peter heard the policemen surrounding the building discussing the poor citizens on their walkie talkies. He decided to attempt sneaking into the bank through a back door to catch the thieves by surprise. It seemed like the least dangerous course of action for the hostages involved. He felt high on adrenaline, his fingers drumming quickly against his thigh as he surveyed the scene below him from the roof of a nearby building.

Dropping to the ground, he snuck around the bank and tried the door handle of the back exit. It didn't budge. /Locked./

"Hey, Spidey," a deep voice behind him said as his spider-senses suddenly went off, and Spider-Man whirled around to find a strange man dressed in red and black pointing a gun at him.

Peter reacted instantly, leaping out of the way. Rather than attempt to follow his path with the gun, the man aimed it at the locked door's handle and pulled the trigger. The bullet punched a hole through the material easily, unlocking the door.

Peter, ears ringing from the gunshot, marched over to the mysterious figure. "I had this under control!" he hissed.

"Looks like you're either letting this one go or we're working this one tandem because I ain't leaving and I'm the one with a gun," the man replied tightly as he kicked the door open - a move purely for show, Spider-Man noted with annoyance, as the door was already open - and gestured inside. "Ladies first."

Fuming, Peter stormed into the bank. Regaining his previous adrenaline, he decided to focus on finding out who the hell this stranger was /after/ he had saved the hostages from this bank. He could only imagine their fear, after all.

Spider-Man snuck towards the main room of the bank. The hallway he had entered mostly held offices and conference rooms and such. When he reached the doorway leading to the main room, he peered carefully through the glass window set in the door.

There were four robbers that he could see, masked men who had rifles trained on various people in the room. Every once in a while, they would shout and surge toward a new victim to terrorize them, but from what Peter had seen, nobody had been injured.

Yet.

And Spider-Man intended to keep it that way.

"So what's the plan?" the strange man whispered in his ear, having snuck up behind him. Peter jumped in surprise, biting back a yell just in time.

"Don't do that!" he whispered angrily.

"Sorry," the man said, not sounding very sorry. "So you're Spider-Man, huh?"

"This isn't the time," Peter cut him off, holding up his hand and trying to remain at least somewhat civil.

"I'm Deadpool," the man continued leisurely, ignoring Peter.

"What kind of a name is /Deadpool?/" Spider-Man snapped, his annoyance getting the better of him.

"I wouldn't be talking, daddy long legs," Deadpool fired back easily. Peter felt a blush of both anger and embarassment rising to his cheeks and fought it down.

"Imma just go in there and start shooting," Deadpool decided after another tense second of silence, racking his handgun expertly and starting forward.

"No!" Peter exlaimed, grabbing his bicep.

Deadpool glanced down at Peter's hand on his arm and then back up at the masked hero with slightly widened eyes. "This relationship is progressing rather quickly."

"/People's lives are in danger,/" Spider-Man hissed. "Can you take this serious for _one_ /second?/"

"You're right. I'm sorry," Deadpool replied soberly. He waited in silence for a literal second before piping up, "You want a gun? I have a spare."

"/You are not going to kill anyone,/" Peter hissed.

"You're no fun," Deadpool pouted.

"Murder isn't /fun!/"

"Sure, sure."

Peter fought back his annoyance. "You wanted a plan? Here's a plan. You go in and draw their fire - /but don't return it./ I'll try to get everyone out. Sound like a plan?"

"Not a /fun/ plan, but sure," Deadpool muttered sourly. The two men stood there for several seconds before Deadpool asked, "What are you waiting for?"

"For you to put away your gun," Spider-Man replied evenly.

Deadpool sighed and dropped the magazine of the gun, shoving it into his belt and gesturing with his supposedly empty weapon as he asked, "Are we good here?"

"I'm not /stupid./ You racked the gun. There's a bullet in the chamber." Peter crossed his arms, tapping his foot expectantly.

Deadpool sighed, racking the gun again. The bullet flew out of the gun, making Peter flinch. He knew how guns worked in theory, but he had little to no experience with them.

" _Now_ let's go!" Deadpool demanded, not seeming to have caught the flinch.

Peter nodded. "After you."

Deadpool pushed into the main room. Peter heard a cheery, "Hello!" and sudden, rapid-fire shooting from the robbers. He hurried in after Deadpool.

The hostages were screaming, now fully panicking. Some of them remained cowering in their hiding places, but others were running desperately for the doors. Spider-Man saw one of the robbers turn from attacking Deadpool and point a gun at a fleeing woman.

"Nice try," Peter muttered, shooting webs at the man's hand with such force that the criminal staggered, the gun knocked from his now-webbed-shut hand.

Peter grinned. This was what he loved about the job - the thick of battle. He almost loved that radioactive spider - without it, he would have never known that he was so good in combat. But then again, without the spider, he /wouldn't/ have been good in combat - not physically, at least. He swooped aftet the civilians, who were tugging desperately at the locked doors.

There was a little boy who had been hidden by his mother's legs. Peter hadn't realized there were any children. This made the situation all the more dire, in his mind. "Spider-Man," the boy sobbed, lauching himself at the masked hero. Making a startled "Oof!" sound, Peter bent and scooped the child up so he himself could raise a leg and kick through the glass of one of the doors.

"Careful!" he shouted as the hostages wasted no time in pouring outside. "Watch the glass!"

Deadpool seemed to be distracting the robbers fairly successfully, and Peter had the sobbing child in his arms to deal with, not to mention his hysterial mother, who was being dragged to an ambulance. Peter couldn't help the strange man fight, not right now. He ducked through the broken door, hugging the child's head to his chest with one hand to make sure his face was protected.

Cameras started flashing and the chatter of voices emerged as the famous Spider-Man emerged from the bank with the little boy. He ignored the attention of the gathering crowd, focusing on carrying the child to where his mother was sitting on an ambulance. She gathered him into her lap with a moan of relief.

Spider-Man bent and ruffled the little boy's hair. "Hey," he said gently. "You're okay now." On impulse, he leaned forward, pulled up his mask slightly, and gently kissed the child's cheek. Then, he stood, raised a hand in farewell to the mother and her son, and hurried back into the bank.

Deadpool was on the ground, the only sign that he was alive being his crazed laughter. None of the robbers noticed Peter entering, as focused as they were with shooting the masked man over and over. The sight sickened Peter - how was Deadpool even alive?

He wasted no time in webbing the villains so securely that they couldn't move - most of them hadn't even noticed his entry. Then he hurried over to Deadpool, bending beside him.

"You're gonna be okay," he said frantically, reaching to touch his wounds and then pulling back for fear of making it worse. "I just need to go get the paramedics - "

"Oh, this is nothing," Deadpool interrupted breathlessly.

Peter stared at him in shock. "You've been shot, like, a bazillion times!"

"Only seventeen times, actually. I was keeping count." Deadpool's voice was getting stronger as he talked. To Peter's shock, the bullets' entry holes were slowly closing, the bullets themselves being pushed out of him as the flesh regrew.

"You have a healing ability?" he asked, in awe. "That's /awesome!/"

Deadpool chuckled slightly. "Thanks, I guess. He stood, the bullet wounds in his legs being fully healed. Peter hovered beside him, nervous that he would suddenly topple over and ready to catch him if that happened.

"I'm fine," promised Deadpool, now sounding as if he was telling the truth. "Now, what do you say we skip the crowds out there and exit the way we entered?"  
Peter nodded. "Good thinking." He didn't really like being surrounded by reporters trying to trick him into revealing something about his identity or taking a bunch of badly angled photos of him.

He followed Deadpool down the back hallway and out of the door they had entered through, wondering who the hell the man truly was.


	5. Chapter Four

Peter stripped out of his spidey suit as soon as he snuck back into his bedroom via the window. This time, he had barely gotten the costume dirty, although a few glass shards had lodged themselves in the thick fabric from when he had broken the door. It was a miracle none had cut through to his leg. He carefully picked out the shards with tweezers, disposing of them in the wastebasket by his desk and tucking his suit back into his closet, vowing to remember this time where he had stored it so he could avoid another embarassing incident like what had happened earlier.

Peter was sweaty, but not injured, so he simply pulled on the clothing he had been wearing prior to his quick crime-fighting excursion and hurried into the bathroom to wash up. Once he was done, he strolled casually into the living room to watch the news. Peter had to admit that even though he didn't directly receive credit for the crimes he stopped, it was still a major confidence booster to hear the people he saved say kind things about him.

He happened to turn on the television just as the newscaster was pushing the microphone into the face of a familiar woman - he quickly recognized her as the mother of the child he had saved. Sure enough, the boy's tiny face peeked just in the camera frame at her side, too short for anything else to show.

"Spider-Man was…amazing," the woman was saying, her smile huge and genuine. "He saved my /child./ Any mother can easily understand how important - what that means to me." She took a deep breath as she collected her thoughts. "My son idolized Spider-Man before, but now, he just won't stop talking about him."

"Is that true?" the newscaster asked delightedly, lowering the microphone to the little boy's face. The camera changed to angle downward in order to capture the child's every movement.

The boy pumped his fist in the air and yelled, "I love Spider-Man!" He giggled as everyone cooed and laughed, retreating halfway behind his mother once more

A warm, tingling feeling filled Peter's chest. He loved this more than anything - seeing how he had helped someone, even made their lives /better/ in certain situations. A small part of him also liked to think that the people he saved decided to live on the straight and narrow from then on, because they had seen where good intentions could lead them - to being heroes. It was wishful thinking, Peter knew, but a nice thought all the same.

Wade entered the apartment then and Peter glanced over his shoulder, turning off the TV. "How was the interview?" he asked, standing.

Wade shrugged noncommitally. "I don't think I'm gonna get the job."

Peter's heart sank. It looked like Wade would be with them for a while yet, then. "Oh. Sorry."

Wade shrugged again, even more casually. He seemed very…fine with the entire situation. "It's okay. This is nothing."

His words, so similar to those spoken by Deadpool, reminded Peter of the mysterious…superhero? Could someone who thought murder was fun be /considered/ a superhero, even if they had assisted in saving hostages? Peter wasn't sure, but either way, he hoped that had been a one-time occurrence. The thought that he would have to regularly see and work with Deadpool now that the man was on his crime-fighting radar was exhausting just to consider, and he hadn't even lived /through/ it yet.

"You're looking pensively into nothingness," Wade informed him.

Peter snapped out of it, glancing over at him. "I'll be in my room," he muttered, standing and leaving the living room before Wade could say anything else.

/I seriously need to stop doing things pensively./

That night, Aunt May ordered pizza. It was a rare occurrence, and Peter knew she had only done it for Wade. Her usual cooking style was either odd Italian food or simply heating up chicken nuggets in the microwave - there was no in-between when it came to Aunt May. Peter assumed that tonight would have been a microwave dinner night, if Aunt May had decided to order pizza instead. Or perhaps she was nervous of receiving criticism on her Italian cooking, although why someone who had been living on the street would complain about any sort of edible food, Peter didn't know.

Wade wasn't just uncomplaining about the pizza - he was downright polite. He called Aunt May "ma'am" at least once in every conversation they had had so far and thanked her often for allowing him to live with her and Peter temporarily. She was fast becoming fond of the other boy, Peter could tell.

What he couldn't tell, however, was whether or not that was a good thing.

"What did you boys do today?" Aunt May asked as they dug into their plain cheese pizza slices.

Peter shrugged, not meeting her gaze. "Not much."

Wade placed down his pizza slice, brushing off his hands on his napkin. "I had a job interview, but it didn't go so well."

Aunt May made a sympathetic face. "Where at?"

Wade paused for a moment, chewing as he stared into space. Finally, he answered, "A fast food joint down the road a few blocks." He took another large bite of his pizza before any more questions could be asked. Peter wondered if he was perhaps more upset about the interview than he had originally let on.

The rest of dinner was spent in relative silence as everyone focused on their own food and thoughts. Peter wasn't sure what to say in front of Wade, although he usually had no trouble bantering with his aunt.

Finally, though, the pizza was demolished and the meal was over. "I'm going to hit the hay pretty early," Peter decided, wiping his mouth off with his napkin and standing.

Aunt May nodded. "Okay, sweetie. Goodnight."

Peter nodded as well, cleaned up after himself and showered at lightning speed. He always felt uncomfortable showering when guests were over.

Especially when said guests were Wade Wilson.

Once he was dressed in a plain white T-shirt and long pajama pants, as per usual, Peter closed his door firmly and slipped into bed.

He had saved a group of hostages, albeit with the help of that mysterious Deadpool. Spider-Man had done well today.

Peter woke up quickly and suddenly. Once upon a time, he had woken up slowly and lazily, no matter what day it was.

One radioactive spider later and that - along with so many other aspects of his life - had severely changed.

He stood up, rubbing at his eyes to clear them. Suddenly, he remembered: /Wade./

Jesus. That had been a dream…right?

Knowing it hadn't been but hoping it was, Peter shuffled out of his bedroom and into the main room of his apartment.

Wade was at the stove.

Shirtless.

Cooking…pancakes.

Peter groaned, crumpling into his seat by the table and burying his face in his hands.

He was _not_ strong enough to get through this.


	6. Chapter Five

"Are they good?" Wade demanded, sounding almost anxious as he watched Peter eat intently.

The pancakes were, strangely, amazing. Wade claimed that it was his first time cooking, which made Peter rather nervous, seeing as he had been inexpertly handling /fire/ as Peter and his aunt slept, none the wiser, but his attempt had turned out perfect.

"They're amazing," he told Wade around a mouthful of pancakes.

Wade grinned, one of his true, genuine smiles that made Peter's heart beat faster. "Thanks."

Aunt May emerged from her bedroom, yawning into her hand. "What is that wonderful smell?" she asked before seeing Wade, who had hurried to stand and grab her a plate of breakfast from the counter.

"I made pancakes," he explained with a charming smile, holding the plate forward like it was a peace offering - not that he needed one at this point.

Aunt May accepted the pancakes slowly, a smile spreading over her entire face. "Wade! You didn't have to do this!"

Wade shrugged. "You both are being so kind to me, I figured I could at least do this much."

Aunt May shook her head. Obviously she simply couldn't believe that this homeless semi-stranger was being so sweet. "Thank you so much," she told the teenage boy sincerely, settling into the seat across from Peter.

Wade ate his pancakes leaning against the counter. He was still shirtless, which Peter was trying desperately not to let distract him. He stared resolutely into the patterns made by his syrup, tracing designs in it with his fork when he had finished his breakfast.

Wade suddenly set down his plate and stretched. "I have a few errands I need to run," he said breezily and somewhat abruptly, leaving before either Aunt May or Peter could ask both where he was going and why he was going there shirtless. They both just stared at the closed door in silence.

Aunt May squinted thoughtfully. "He's a wonderful boy," she said slowly, "but I do think he's hiding something." She shrugged, returning to her pancakes. "As long as he doesn't bring any trouble around here, I really don't mind."

Peter felt a twisting in his stomach. What if his stupid attraction - or whatever it was - to Wade brought stuff into his and his aunt's life that they didn't want to deal with? Peter wouldn't have put much past the other boy: drugs, gambling, gangs…He glanced across the table at his aunt, who was innocently munching her pancakes.

He would keep her safe, no matter the cost. That much, he knew.

Sighing at his own sobering thoughts, Peter rose, placing his dish and silverware in the sink. "Aunt May?" he asked over his shoulder. "Need anything from the store?"

"There's a shopping list on the fridge," his aunt replied. As he grabbed it, she said, "Thank you so much, dear. I wasn't really feeling up to it today."

"You okay?" Peter asked, instantly concerned.

Aunt May smiled. "You worry too much. I'm just having a lazy day. You know how it is."

Peter nodded slowly. He didn't really know how it was, not since being bitten by that spider - but his aunt was right - he worried far too much. But that kind of came in the superhero package. There was constantly a niggling in the back of his mind, a worry that one of his enemies had somehow escaped jail and discovered who he truly was. He couldn't just let that go because otherwise, he and his aunt would never be safe.

Peter grabbed his backpack from his room and opened the door of his apartment to leave, grabbing the shopping list as he passed the fridge.. "Bye, Aunt May!" he called over his shoulder.

"See you soon," she replied distractedly, already watching the TV and sucked into whatever sitcom she was obsessed with now.

Peter shook his head fondly at the sight and left.

It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining…the birds were chirping…the sirens were wailing…

Peter stopped dead in his tracks and watched silently as a fire engine went screaming past him. Then, without a second thought, he ducked into an alley, concealing himself behind a Dumpster.

He always brought his suit with him wherever he went, just in case. Sure, maybe this was just a call for who had had an accident, something that hadn't been caused by criminals. Maybe Spider-Man couldn't help whatsoever.

But he had to be certain.

Once he had changed into his suit, Peter threw on his backpack, scaled a nearby building, and webbed the bag to its roof. Then, he took off after the ambulance.

Soon, he saw where it was going. A column of flames rose into the sky - a gas station was ablaze. Several bodies littered the ground, although Spider-Man was too far away to make out anything about them. He doubted he could even if he was standing directly next to them - fire tended to disfigure bodies, he knew.

Peter felt sick to his stomach. Spider-Man had gotten here too late.

Then he saw a figure staggering out of the smoke. He tensed, prepared to swing down to the husk of a gas station. Who could have survived an explosion like that? Whoever it was, he had to help -

Peter audibly gasped when he saw who it was.

" _Deadpool_ ," he hissed.

It was too late to save anyone, whether or not they were the bad guys. Whether or not there had even /been/ any bad guys. Deadpool had already done…whatever he had wanted to do to the gas station.

"I can't believe I /worked/ with him!" Peter muttered angrily to himself as he turned away from the scene and returned to the rooftop on which he had webbed his backpack as if on autopilot. Deadpool was a murderer. He had killed others while relying on his own regenerative powers to survive. What kind of person /did/ that?

Then and there, Spider-Man vowed to take down the man in black and red should they cross paths again.

Spider-Man had been so distracted by what he had seen that he completely forgot to go to the supermarket. He shuffled into his apartment, staring pensively at his feet, deep in thought.

"Peter!" Aunt May exclaimed, rushing across the room and grabbing him in a tight embrace. "Oh, thank god…"

"What?" he asked worriedly, pulling away from her after a few seconds of enduring the hug.

Then he glanced over her shoulder and saw what she was watching on the television.

The gas station filled the tiny screen, still burning.

Anger curled in the pit of his stomach as he listened to the newscaster speak about the tragedy: "...eight killed in a freak accident at a New York gas station. To the best of our knowledge, most of the victims were convicted criminals, evading the law…"

"Yeah, most of them," Peter muttered furiously, storming into his room and slamming the door behind him as Aunt May called after him, concerned.

Deadpool had to be taken down. For everyone's safety.


	7. Chapter Six

Wade returned about an hour after Peter. "Oh, Wade, dear, I was worried," Peter heard Aunt May tell him, sounding much less terrified than she had with Peter - understandable, of course. "You smell just like a campfire. Oh, speaking of fires, did you see the news? Someone murdered eight people?"

"Yeah, I saw it," Peter heard Wade say. "Weren't the people bad guys?"

Peter's brow furrowed as Aunt May quietly replied, likely explaining the full story. Had he heard incorrectly, or was Wade actually on _Deadpool's_ side? Peter shrugged and slid in his earbuds, letting the music soothe him. He could worry about all of this later.

Right now, he was consumed with guilt - for not getting to the gas station fast enough, for not being able to save any of the eight victims. What was the point of being a superhero if people died on your watch?

Sighing, Peter pulled his Spidey mask out of his backpack and examined it.

"I can't help anyone by feeling guilty," he whispered to himself softly. "All I can do now is stop other crimes."

Placing the mask back in his backpack, Peter hurried across his bedroom and powered on his laptop.

Within minutes, he had programmed the computer to send a message to his phone whenever any crime was being digitally monitored.

It wasn't perfect, but it was a start.

Wade knocked on Peter's door just then. Peter slammed his laptop shut as the boy entered unbidden.

"Dude!" Peter exclaimed, his irritation running too high to deal for this. "What if I was… _naked_ or something?"

Wade raised his eyebrows meaningfully. Peter inwardly groaned. He could not win with this boy. "What do you want?" he asked tiredly, dropping his head into his hands.

"May mentioned that she had some grocery shopping to do. Could I have the list?"

"Oh. Sure." Peter reached over and grabbed his backpack, making sure to shield its contents - his Spidey suit - from Wade's line of sight. He dug out the crumpled list and handed it to Wade.

Wade winked. "Thanks."

Peter nodded wordlessly as Wade left his room. He sighed, rubbing his temples. What was happening to his life?

His phone buzzed and Peter slammed his door shut to change.

There had been a robbery at a nearby ATM, and the police were currently in a car chase with the criminals. Peter swung from building to building on his webs, hurrying after the cluster of cars cutting smoothly through traffic that swerved to avoid them. He surveyed the crowds of screaming people who were desperately diving out of the way to escape the speeding cars, especially that of the thieves, who had no trouble with jumping the curb and possibly taking down a few civilians. To the best of Peter's knowledge, however, nobody had been hurt - yet.

It would be too dangerous to web the car itself. What if it flipped and crushed both its passengers and people surrounding it? What if the police cars ran into it and _their_ passengers got hurt? What if the passengers weren't wearing their seat belts and were sent crashing through the front windshield? No, Spider-Man would have to be one step ahead of them.

He scanned the possible streets the criminals' car could turn down. There were three options, but they both stretched fairly far without branching out into other streets.

So if he could anticipate where the thieves' car planned to turn and webbed a barrier at the end of the street, hemming the vehicle in…

Peter tracked the car, his heart beating furiously, fueled by adrenaline. He saw the car drifting to the left ever so slightly. _The left street it is, then_.

He dashed across the rooftops and set to work creating a shield of webbing near the end of the street. As a precaution, he webbed off all the alleys that were almost wide enough for the car to squeeze through.

The car turned onto the road, its left wheels leaving the ground for a harrowing second. It landed safely, however, and came to a screeching halt at the sight of the web shield. The police turned into the street as well, sirens blaring.

Peter dropped from the side of a skyscraper to the concrete, prepared to take fire for the policemen if it meant that they wouldn't get hurt. Sure enough, the thieves tumbled out of the car with handguns raised at the ready.

It took merely a few seconds to web the guns from their hands and stick them to the street. It took even less time to pin the men to their car and wrap them up tightly.

"The webbing takes two hours to wear off," Spider-Man told the awestruck policemen as he passed. "Good luck." They watched him swing off with slack jaws.

As Peter practically flew through the air, headed home, he felt a surge of glee and leftover adrenaline. This victory had helped him regain some of his positivity and confidence. It was exactly what he had needed after the fiasco of this morning.

His stomach growled. _I hope Wade's back with those groceries._

For lunch, Aunt May microwaved some chicken nuggets.

"I know it's rather a letdown after this morning's amazing breakfast," she told Wade embarrassedly, not bothering to attempt to redeem herself to her nephew, who knew who she was as a person, "but it's something quick and simple."

Wade nodded, biting into his chicken nugget. "I love these," he assured her sincerely.

Peter smiled slightly as he started eating his own lunch. For all of Wade's innuendos and impoliteness when Aunt May's back was turned, he was a decent guy while talking to her, at least.

Suddenly, Peter's phone buzzed and his heart leapt in his throat. He sneakily checked it under the table and gave a sigh of relief to see it was only a text from Ned.

"What are my rules about tech at the table during meals, young man?" Aunt May demanded angrily, catching sight of Peter.

"It's just Ned," he replied hastily, scanning the text once more. "He's gonna come over in about a half hour."

Aunt May nodded. "Sure." She grinned as if she had suddenly gotten a wonderful idea. "You three can hang out!"

Wade bobbed his head enthusiastically. "Okay!"

Peter tried to hide his horror at the idea. Not only would Ned surely shoot him a huge load of meaningful looks and wide-eyed glances that Wade would be in danger of catching, but Wade would also surely not want to do whatever activity Ned had in mind. He would likely even make fun of Peter's friend for suggesting it, knowing Wade.

"Sure," Peter said tightly when both Wade and his aunt looked at him expectantly. "That sounds great."


	8. Chapter Seven

When Peter opened his apartment door, Ned greeted him with an innocent smile. His smile dimmed, however, at the expression on Peter's face. "What?" he asked, glancing down at himself to check for a wardrobe malfunction or food stain.

"Wade's going to be hanging out with us," Peter hissed.

Ned's eyes widened. " _Why?_ "

"May," Peter explained shortly, stepping aside to allow his best friend entry. Ned walked into the apartment uncertainly, acting as nervous as if entering a haunted house.

Wade was sitting on the couch. He jumped up at Ned's entrance. "Hey, Ned," he greeted him easily. Ned raised a hand in lame greeting, casting an incredulous glance over his shoulder at Peter.

"What do you guys usually do for fun?" Wade asked after a tense and awkward moment of silence, shoving his hands into his back pockets, his expression open and inquisitive.

Peter shrugged, not wanting to divulge the truthful answer - that he and Ned would do anything from build Lego sets to study together, even subjects that they couldn't take until college. He knew exactly what Wade would think of that. "We just hang out," he replied instead.

Wade spread his hands as if asking Peter to lead the way. "Awesome."

After another awkward pause, Peter took a deep breath and led the two other boys back into his bedroom.

"What's this?" Wade asked casually, picking up yet another object from Peter's desk. He had been doing this for about five minutes now, but it was far preferable than the minute-long silence that had fallen over the three boys when they had first entered Peter's room.

"A Newton's Cradle," Peter replied slowly, eyebrows raising. "You've seriously never seen one before?"

Wade shrugged. "Well, yeah, I've seen them before, but I didn't know what they were called." He picked up one of the small silver balls on the end and released it, sending it crashing into its neighbor and sending the ball on the other side aloft. He laughed in true childish delight. "Cool."

Ned and Peter exchanged a glance. Leaving the apartment on secret excursions one hour and playing with a Newton's Cradle the next? Who _was_ this guy?

"Ned, you're a child genius too, right?" Wade asked, setting down the Newton's cradle. "Like Peter here." He flashed a grin at Peter and Peter shrank into himself slightly.

Ned shrugged, cheeks reddening. "Depends on how you define 'child genius.'"

"So that's a yes," Wade muttered, moving on to the periodic table poster on Peter's wall. "Now _this_ , I recognize."

Peter sighed in relief. So Wade hadn't been _completely_ ignoring every science class he had ever taken.

"Why'd you come over, Ned?" Peter asked his friend quietly as Wade examined the poster.

Ned's gaze flicked to Wade. "I was wondering if you wanted to - I don't know - go to the library or something." His voice petered out as he watched Wade embarrassedly.

Wade spun around. "The library! I haven't been there in…" He counted on his fingers, ticking off some unknown time interval. "Ever!" He grinned and shrugged.

"You've never been to the _library?_ " Ned asked incredulously. Although he wasn't looking at Peter, the latter boy could _feel_ his friend's judgement: _What do you see in this idiot?_

Wade shrugged. "I've been busy."

"For your _entire life?_ "

"Let it go, Ned," Peter interrupted tiredly. He smiled wearily at the two boys. "Let's go."

A trip to the library would be nothing but relaxing.

Right?

" _Why are you in the children's section?_ " Peter hissed exasperatedly, hurrying over to Wade as the latter waved cheerily at a small child, looking for all the world like he was window shopping for the kids in the area rather than the books.

"Kids' books are so light - cheery," Wade explained. "Any books meant for older demographics are too dark and gritty."

Peter just stared at him. First off, Wade seemed fairly unintelligent, but using words like "demographics?" Perhaps there was more than him than Peter had originally thought. Second, Wade seemed like the _last_ person to care about whether or not a book was happy, especially since he didn't _read_ books. If anything, Peter would have pegged him for someone to enjoy novels by authors such as Stephen King or George R.R. Martin.

Wade cocked his head. "What?"

Peter shook his head. "Nothing." He tried to peer at the cover of the book that Wade was currently reading. "What is that?"

Wade held it up with a grin. " _The Babysitter's Club!_ "

Peter threw up his hands in exasperation and noticed Ned watching the entire exchange with raised eyebrows. Peter hurried over to his friend, rubbing his temples.

"The library's supposed to be _relaxing_ ," he whispered. " _Soothing._ "

"Yo, Peter!" Wade yelled, waving his hand in a wide gesture as if Peter was on the other side of a large crowd rather than on the opposite end of one small section of a nearly silent library. "Come look at this!"

" _Shhh!_ " Peter hissed, rushing over to Wade.

Wade bit his lip in what could almost be called a pout. "Just wanted to show you this," he muttered, moving aside a few books to show a novel that had been shoved behind the row of books. "Thought you'd wanna sort it or something. Seemed like something nerdy you'd like to do."

Peter reached forward and grabbed the book roughly. It was just a few shelves away from its proper place…

 _No,_ he decided resolutely. _I won't give Wade the satisfaction_.

He replaced the book on the shelf. "It's fine," he said tightly, turning to leave.

"Hey, I'm sorry," Wade said suddenly, grabbing his shoulder. Peter stiffened both at the physical contact and the sincerity of the words.

Wade didn't release him. "I'm sorry for ruining today," he continued. "I didn't mean to be rude. I was just joking around."

Peter turned around slowly, offering Wade a tentative smile. "It's fine."

A second passed.

Peter reached forward, grabbed the novel off of the shelf, and hurried off to sort it with Wade's chuckles following him.


	9. Chapter Eight

As the three boys returned to Peter's apartment, Peter felt his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He hurriedly dug it out, his heart sinking as he saw that it was, indeed, a message directly from his laptop. He didn't bother to read it, but he knew that it meant that somewhere in the city, a crime was being committed.

"I just thought of something I…have to…go do," he said lamely, halting and tugging off his backpack. He pulled out the books that Ned, Wade, and himself had checked out from the library and handed them to his two companions. "You guys take these home. I'll be there in…an hour or so. Probably."

"What are you _doing_?" Ned demanded, annoyance entering his voice.

Peter felt guilty for abandoning his best friend, especially with Wade, but shot him a meaningful look. After everything he knew and had seen, Ned should have known better than to question him in front of those who didn't know about his secret identity.

"I'm going to stop by the grocery store," he answered slowly, cramming as much hidden meaning into his words as possible.

"I already went," Wade reminded him, his expression confused.

"I'm checking to see if they have a rare…spice," Peter managed.

Wade nodded slowly, his expression unreadable. Ned's eyes suddenly - finally - widened in realization.

"What'd you get at the library, Wade?" he asked casually, turning and starting down the street at a good pace so that Wade would be forced to hurry to follow him.

Peter ducked down an alleyway as soon as both of them looked away, hoping that, if Wade were to look back, he would assume that Peter had simply disappeared into the crowd.

He grabbed his spidey suit and wasted no time in webbing his backpack high up enough on the wall of one of the buildings so that nobody could reach it - except for himself, of course. Then he hastened to change into his suit, and scaled the wall easily.

His phone had said that there had been a 911 call coming from a nearby locally owned pet store. Why someone would steal from a pet store, Peter wasn't sure, but he had to stop them.

Peter webbed his way across town, arriving at the scene of the crime only a few minutes after receiving the initial distress text. The police were already there, aiming their guns at the building. _So, can't take the front entrance, then_.

Spider-Man stayed low to the roof as he crept towards the store. He didn't want anyone to know that the spider-like hero had arrived - not yet.

Thankfully, the pet store was a back door that opened into a wide alley. Whoever the thieves were, they were inexperienced - this door was free of a barricade.

Peter entered the building carefully. Although the criminals might have been amateurs, they could still be armed, and sometimes, amateurs were more dangerous with weapons than experts.

Sure enough, when Peter peered from the tiny back room into the main building, he saw one man standing in front of the large front window, his gun pressed to the temple of a sobbing teenage girl who had likely been working the register, based on her uniform. Another man was rummaging through the register about a foot away.

Spider-Man burst into the room and immediately shot a web at the man holding a gun to the girl's head. It knocked the handgun from his hand, but he reacted quickly enough that his hand pulled away from the gun so he still had a grip on the girl.

The man at the register was now alerted to Peter's presence, but at the moment, the hero simply couldn't care. _The girl is the top priority_.

He dashed toward the man, who was now strangling the girl in the crook of his arm. She was making terrible, sobbing, choking noises.

Just before Peter leapt to tackle him, the man released the girl, who collapsed to the floor, and ducked out of the way. Peter bent, tugged the girl to her feet, and kicked open the front door. He shoved the girl outside and shouted, "Go!" before turning back to the store and the two robbers.

One man attempted to tackle Spider-Man, but the teenager rolled to the side, stood up, and shot a glob of webbing towards the criminal within the span of a few seconds.

Somehow, the man dodged it.

Peter's brow furrowed under his mask. What kind of people were these, who robbed a pet store of all places so inadequately but had reflexes nearly as quickly as those of Peter's himself?

No matter. All that mattered at the moment was winning this battle, and Peter threw himself completely into that task.

He engaged in this furious struggle, yet gaining no ground, for a good amount of time before someone crashed in from the back room, temporarily stalling the action.

"Hola, bitches!" Deadpool screeched, hefting his guns high.

Spider-Man groaned. "Dammit…"

Before he could make a move, Deadpool shot one man in the stomach. He pointed his gun at the man who was currently staggering to his feet by the front window of the store, but Spider-Man jumped in front of the gun before he could fire.

"Move, dude," Deadpool commanded warningly.

Spider-Man turned quickly and shot webbing at the criminal, knocking him to the floor and pinning him there. "You can't just shoot people!" he shouted, turning back to Deadpool.

"Why not?" Deadpool asked innocently. "I just did."

Peter strode across the room and grabbed the other man's arm, tugging him into the alleyway behind the shop. Deadpool did nothing to stop him, but didn't put his gun away, either.

Suddenly, before Deadpool could react, Peter pinned him to the alley wall with webbing and returned to the shop, the villain's shouts following him.

Spider-Man exited the building via the front exit and was met by an overwhelming wave of cheers and cameras flashing. Ignoring them all, he crossed over to an ambulance, one that wasn't caring for the teenage girl, who looked to be currently in shock.

"A man's been shot in there," he told them. As the paramedics nodded and hurried inside, Peter crossed over to the teenage girl. He didn't recognize her - this area was outside of his school district.

"Holding up okay?" he asked gently. The girl nodded, turning her glazed gaze to him.

"You're Spider-Man," she said slowly.

Peter nodded in confirmation. "Yeah."

"Thank you," the girl said, starting to cry again. "Thank you so much."

"I'm sorry you had to go through that," Peter told her softly, wincing in sympathy at the bruises already appearing around her neck. "I hope you'll be okay."

He reached down and hugged the girl tightly. Then, he returned to the shop, passing the paramedics who were quickly carrying out the shot criminal. As far as Peter could see, the man was still alive. He breathed a sigh of relief, his relief hardening to anger as he thought of the man who was responsible for that man's near death.

He stalked out into the back alley, where Deadpool was still pinned. "This stuff is strong!" the villain exclaimed cheerily.

Peter glared at him. "Listen closely," he growled. "We need to talk."


	10. Chapter Nine

"Are you supposed to be a superhero?" Peter demanded, tapping his foot expectantly.

Deadpool cocked his head to one side. "It depends on how you'd define 'superhero,' webslinger." For once, he sounded deadly serious.

"I would identify 'superhero' as someone who doesn't /murder/ people!"

Deadpool was silent for a moment before he gasped in realization. "Oh! You're referring to that gas station!"

"Of /course/ I mean the gas station! What else would I mean?" Spider-Man squinted suspiciously at Deadpool. "What else did you do?"

"Nothing!" Deadpool replied defensively. There was a beat of silence before he admitted, "Okay, there were a few other things…"

Peter groaned in disbelief.

"Everyone I've ever killed is a bad guy," Deadpool hurried to explain. As if /that/ justified his actions.

"Superheroes don't kill people, regardless of who they are!"

"Okay. Say I catch a criminal and lock them up," Deadpool began after a moment. "What if they escaped and killed a ton more people, innocent people that I could have saved by ending the bad guy's life?"

Spider-Man paused. Deadpool did have a point in that regard…

"No," he said weakly, his voice gaining confidence as he talked. "Murder is /evil./"

Deadpool sighed. "Then how do /you/ propose I fight crime?"

Peter thought for a moment, then started to pace the alley before Deadpool. "Okay. Here's a deal," he said. "You work with me for a week - just one week, that's all I want - and try out /my/ crime fighting methods. If you think they're less effective than your way, then you're free to do what you feel you need to do. Otherwise, you're a changed man and we both go home happy."

"So at the end of the week," Deadpool asked slowly, "if I decide to return to murdering criminals, you'll really just let me do it?" He snorted disbelievingly, shaking his head slightly.

Peter paused. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," he decided after a tense moment of silence, although mentally, the bridge was, of course, already crossed. "So? What do you say?"

Deadpool shrugged. "Sure. What do I have to lose?"

/Your freedom, if you don't cooperate,/ Peter thought vengefully, but silently nodded. He turned and began leaving the alleyway.

"Hey!" Deadpool called indignantly. "Come cut me down!"

Peter turned around, walking backwards as he held up his hands helplessly. "Sorry," he replied innocently. "I don't have anything sharp. It wears off in two hours, give or take."

He turned back around and strolled off, grinning as Deadpool spat profanities behind him.

Once he was in his bedroom, Peter had time to think about what a bad idea this truly was. He hadn't even gotten Deadpool's contact information! He would just have to trust that the anti-hero would turn up at the next major crime scene.

And that the man would uphold his promise. /Sure, because he seemed/ so /trustworthy./

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair and flopping backwards onto his bed. What was he doing with his life?

He would call Ned and talk it out. That would calm him down.

Someone knocked on his door and Wade opened it before Peter had a chance to give him permission to enter. "Hey," he greeted him. "How goes it?"

Peter shrugged, continuing to stare at his ceiling. "Good, why?"

"Why'd you climb in through the window?" Wade asked casually without further preamble.

Peter's mind froze as he grasped desperately at the first excuse that came to him. "I…like hanging out on the roof."

Wade shrugged nonchalantly. "Cool. Let's go up tonight."

"What?"

"Stargazing, Parker. Heard of it?" Wade swept out of Peter's room before he had time to answer. Peter stared after him disbelievingly.

Had Wade just asked - ordered, if he was being truthful - him to /stargaze?/

Peter was certain Wade had forgotten about that incredibly strange conversation by the time that night rolled around and had already changed into a plain white T-shirt and pajama bottoms when a sharp knock came at his bedroom door. He sighed irritably, slamming his laptop closed. "Come in."

Wade was already opening the door. He was in similar pajamas, although they were a bit too small for him. It was rather distracting.

"Ready?" Wade asked. He made it sound like they were going on a date or something, Peter thought dryly before pushing this from his mind.

"Sure," he replied, trying to act as casual as possible as he turned and crossed his room to push open the window. He climbed onto the fire escape outside and waited for Wade to join him. The metal trembled as the latter boy stepped onto it, but even if they did fall, Peter trusted his Spidey senses to save him, if not Wade.

They climbed up a short ladder to get to the roof. Peter had actually only been up here once or twice, when he needed to change into his Spidey suit and couldn't do it in his bedroom, for whatever reason. He glanced around the plain concrete rooftop idly as he waited for Wade to join him.

"It's nice up here," Wade said, and Peter flinched at how close he was standing. "Nice view."

Peter looked over the nearby buildings and caught his breath. Wade was wrong - it was an /amazing/ view. The nickname of a "city that never slept" was never proven truer than at night, when bright lights stood out among the shadows and car horns and sirens filled the air. The last sound still made Peter tense, but tonight, at least, he was going to let the police deal with any petty thefts or robberies that might be occurring. It was a decision he hoped he wouldn't later come to regret.

"Now," Wade said, "you wanna tell me what you've really been doing over the past few days?"


	11. Chapter Ten

Peter stared at Wade, speechless. "/What?/" he finally managed.

"You said you climbed in through your window because you were up on the roof," Wade explained, "but /I/ come up here sometimes - to clear my head - and you're never up here, and yet you randomly disappear from your room at the same time I climb up here." He crossed his arms. "What's going on, Peter?"

Anger flared within Peter. Wade had /no right/ to question him like this. "You're not my aunt," he muttered.

"No, I'm not. Frankly, she's rather unobservant, so I'm stepping in for her," Wade fired back, unmoved.

Peter sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's totally normal for teenagers to…sneak out. I take the fire escape down to the street and just…go for walks. For the same reason you come up here - to clear my head." He was rather surprised at how easily the lie rolled right off of his tongue and wasn't sure if it was cause to be worried or not.

Wade, however, took the bait and nodded slowly. "Okay," he finally replied. "I can respect that." As Peter sighed in relief, the other boy clapped his hands and dropped to the rooftop to sit in a criss-cross position, patting the concrete beside him. "Sit."

Peter did so hesitantly, heart still racing from the fear prompted by the conversation they had just had. He made sure to sit a good distance away from Wade as he lowered himself to the rooftop, acutely aware all the same of how close they were.

Wade was staring up at what few stars could be seen through the layer of pollution blanketing New York City. "I did this every night - looked at the stars - when I was sick," he said thoughtfully, as if to himself.

Peter tensed. He had talked to Wade about his cancer exactly once, and that had been to ask why he continued coming to school. Since then, he hadn't broached the topic because he didn't feel nearly close enough with the boy. Now, however, he sensed a heart-to-heart on the horizon.

He wasn't sure how he felt about that.

"Your cancer?" he asked carefully.

Wade glanced over at him, nodding. "Yeah. Cancer's a bitch, Peter. Hurts like hell."

"How'd you…?" Peter trailed off timidly.

"Fight it off? Simple. I got treatment," Wade replied as if he was discussing the weather.

"No offense, but how did you…?"

"Afford it? No offense taken. My family's dirt poor." Wade's voice, if possible, had gotten even lighter as he stared up at the stars. It was as if he /wanted/ to be talking about this. Then again, maybe he did. He didn't have many friends at school - actually, he didn't have any, now that Peter thought about it. Maybe he /needed/ someone to talk to about all of this.

"Anyway," Wade continued, "I got free treatment. It was kind of experimental medicine - wasn't even legal."

"But it worked," Peter offered, trying to hide his surprise at hearing that Wade's cancer treatment had been illegal. Tonight, he wasn't even going to approach the ethics of that.

"True," Wade said, his voice hinting that it was far more complicated than that. If there was more, however, he didn't share it. Instead, he continued gazing silently at the night sky. Peter did the same, craning his neck to get a better view.

They sat in companionable silence for several minutes, no words passing between them because nothing needed to be said. For that moment, at least, Wade wasn't homeless and Peter wasn't Spider-Man.

It didn't change the fact that Peter wanted to reach over and kiss Wade, wanted to do so desperately, but it was something.

Peter wasn't sure exactly how much time had passed until he found himself yawning so widely that his jaw popped.

"Time for bed," Wade decided, chuckling, and stood. Peter nodded and joined him.

They stared at each other for a moment. Peter clenched his hands into fists at his sides, digging his fingernails into his palms. /Self control, Peter. Self control./

"This was nice," Wade said quietly after several seconds of this tense silence. Peter just nodded, not trusting his voice.

"We should do it again," Wade whispered, even softer than before. Then, abruptly, he turned and stalked toward the ladder that would return them to Peter's bedroom.

Peter sighed. /Was that a moment?/ he wondered, following Wade.

That night, he lay awake in his bed for quite some time. It felt like his life was spiraling out of control and he wasn't sure how to make it stop or even slow it down. First his feelings for Wade…and now the agreement with Deadpool…

His thoughts kept returning to Wade rather than the anti-hero, however. Did friends watch stars on their rooftops together? He supposed some might, but then again, he couldn't be sure. Whenever he and Ned had sleepovers, they always just hung out in his bedroom, and Ned was pretty much the only friend he had had since the beginning of middle school - since earlier, if he was being honest with himself.

Peter sighed, rolling onto his side and staring at his bedroom wall.

Tonight was going to be a sleepless one. That much was painfully - and exhaustingly - clear.

The next day, Peter was woken early by the sound of sirens and a strange crackling noise. He flew out of bed and was at his window within the span of a couple of seconds and almost before realizing he was moving.

The structure kitty-corner to his apartment building was aflame.

Some were still staggering out of it, choking and screaming. Peter's throat constricted at the horrifying sight and he changed into his Spidey suit in mere seconds. He was out of the window before he could form any sort of plan.

/Deadpool, you'd better show up./ They would need his regenerative powers for this. Peter wasn't even sure if the fire was the result of a crime, but people definitely were in danger, and that was all he needed.

He swung to the ground and started toward the burning building.


	12. Chapter Eleven

"Spider-Man!" someone called out as Peter approached and the cry was quickly repeated and grew into a chant, along with claps and cheers from the growing crowd. Peter ignored them, scanning the building.

Finally, he sighed. No matter where he entered, he was going to get hurt.

He grabbed a quickly passing firefighter by the shoulder. "Anyone still in the building?" he demanded, painfully aware of every passing second.

"Third floor," the firefighter answered, looking incredibly harried. "We think that's where the fire started."

Peter nodded wordlessly and shot webbing at the wall of the building. A flame licked at the material and he watched in horror as his web snapped and melted.

" _Shit_ ," he muttered, and before he could talk himself out of it, he dove through the front doors of the building.

The heat was incredible. It sucked the moisture from his eyes and throat and Peter coughed, choking. He dropped to the floor to escape the thick, billowing smoke. His suit would offer some protection, but he doubted it would shield him from the worst of the flames.

Suddenly, someone grabbed him and pulled him upright. "What floor?" Deadpool shouted in his ear.

"Third!" he replied, too weak to struggle as Deadpool dragged him to the front door and threw him into the street. Peter stepped away from the building and watched desperately. How could Deadpool save them all? He felt so helpless, so useless -

Screams sounded from the crowd and Spider-Man looked up to see that a woman had been flung from one of the third-story windows.

"Deadpool!" he growled furiously, his reflexes instantly positioning him in the prime location to catch the woman. He wasted no time in carrying her to one of the many waiting ambulances, dashing back to the burning building as a man was tossed out.

One by one, the survivors were thrown out of the building. Peter caught every single one without fail, delivering them safely to the ground and medical help. One especially broke his heart - a little girl, maybe six or seven, whose golden curls were mostly burned off of her head. She was unconscious but was still breathing. He didn't know what she had been doing in what seemed to be an office building, based on how the survivors were dressed, but she couldn't have chosen a worse day to go.

Finally, all of the survivors were safely out of the building. Peter searched the windows and doorway desperately. Where was Deadpool? Surely his regenerative abilities wouldn't work if he was burned to nothing but ashes…

Then Deadpool's charred body flung itself from the third story, and Peter caught him just in time.

He turned around, an unconscious Deadpool in his arms, and stared at the huge crowd of people who were gathered around him and the charred husk of the building behind him. The spectators started to applaud and cheer. He watched them for only a moment before adjusting his grip on Deadpool so he had a free hand, turning, and shooting the building next to them with a string of webbing. He carried the anti-hero (or was he a hero now?) away from the scene of the fire with the cheers of a relieved crowd aimed at his back.

Peter landed on a rooftop a few buildings away and placed Deadpool down carefully. The man was unmoving.

Spider-Man bent and pressed an ear to Deadpool's chest, listening desperately for a heartbeat. Nothing.

He tried frantically to remember what he had learned about CPR in school. He made a triangle with his fingers - was that right? Or was it -

No. Deadpool didn't have time for this. Peter positioned his hands over the man's chest, one on top of the other, and pressed down as hard as he could three times in a row, rapid-fire.

Honestly, he didn't remember anything about CPR. He was just hoping Deadpool would revive himself before they had to progress to the mouth-to-mouth part.

He hopefully did the chest compressions a few more times before he had to grudgingly admit that they weren't going to work. He would have to try mouth to mouth.

He yanked up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth and did the same for Deadpool, pausing at the sight of his lips. How could a mouth look familiar…?

No. He didn't have time to worry about that right now. Peter took a deep breath and was just about to press his mouth to Deadpool's when the latter man sucked in a gasping breath and sat bolt upright.

Peter sighed in relief, sitting back on his heels. "Oh, thank God," he muttered, watching uncertainly as Deadpool staggered to his feet and promptly collapsed again.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

Deadpool shook his head, but rather than seem like a negative answer, it was as if he was trying to shake something out of his skull. "Ow," he noted softly. Then he glanced over at Peter. "Why is your mask…?" Suddenly, he raised a hand to his own mouth, realizing it, too, was exposed. He yanked it down, muffling his voice. "Did you…?"

"No. You woke up before I had to," Peter replied.

Deadpool stared at him for a long moment. "Your voice…" he muttered, dazed.

"What about it?" Peter's brow furrowed.

"It's not muffled anymore."

"So?"

Deadpool stared at him for another moment before shrugging nonchalantly. "I don't know. Just an observation." He stood, seeming much more steady on his feet. "Walk me home?"

Peter raised an eyebrow, a bit confused. "You're going to let me see where you live?"

"Sure. Why not?"

Peter shrugged. After all, it wasn't as if he was going to use the information to do anything bad to Wade or whoever he might be living with. "Lead the way."


	13. Chapter Twelve

Peter was fairly certain he was going to vomit.

He had been carrying Deadpool while the black-and-red clad hero had given him instructions to his home. Now, they had arrived.

"Are you sure /this/ is where you live?" Peter asked slowly, glancing around the rooftop of his apartment building. Had Spider-Man seriously had a murderous maniac living a rooftop above him this entire time?

"Actually, I live a floor below," Deadpool replied casually. He grabbed his mask and yanked it off before Peter could process his words.

Peter physically staggered backwards as if he had been punched in the gut. He felt like reality was suddenly playing a cruel, cruel prank on him.

"/Wade?/" he breathed, staring into the other boy's familiar face.

Wade nodded. "Surprise…/Peter./"

As if in a trance, Peter reached up and pulled off his own mask. The game was up. "Holy shit," he muttered, running a hand through his hair and turning away. He felt lightheaded, and his nausea had only grown. All this time…

"Sorry for not telling you sooner, but I didn't know who you were at first," Wade explained apologetically. "Your suit kind of changes your voice - muffles it. When you were talking with your mask pulled up earlier - then I realized."

Peter nodded distantly. "You're Deadpool." His voice was remarkably calm.

Wade laughed. "This - this isn't really easy for me, either. I mean, you're /Spider-Man. Peter Parker/ is Spider-Man."

Peter whirled around to face Wade. "You can't tell /anyone./" His voice was desperate, pleading. He hated being at the mercy of the whims of a boy who he now knew was completely insane. And he had been /sleeping on Peter's couch!/

Wade crossed his arms defensively. "What made you think I would? Nobody can know about me, either, or I would be arrested," he pointed out, gesturing to his own suit. "I've /killed/ people, Peter."

Peter groaned at this reminder, crouching down as the world started to spin disconcertingly. This was awful, way worse than when Ned had discovered this secret. Peter's mind was frantically dissecting the past few days, all of the strange pieces - Wade's strange disappearances, his comment coming up to the roof to "clear his head" - falling into place.

"I'm sorry, Peter," Wade said softly. Then, he said as if to himself, "Jesus Christ! /Peter Parker/ is Spider-Man!"

"What /happened/ to you?" Peter demanded, standing and turning to face him. "Honest answer, full story. Go."

Wade blinked at him. "Um," he started, then stopped.

"/Now./" Peter's lips thinned.

"Okay, okay. My family's absolute shit," Wade hastily explained, "as I'm sure you've realized."

Peter nodded silently.

"They couldn't afford cancer treatment, not that they would have wasted money on it if they could. I was prepared to have to die without ever having taken a single pill. Then this…guy found me." Wade stopped and took a deep breath as if to steady himself. "He promised me these…these amazing powers. And I didn't have to pay or anything. I was so desperate, in so much pain, so…I agreed." He shut his eyes briefly as if these memories still hurt.

"The treatment was…awful, to say the least. It wasn't government mandated and, like I said, it was illegal, so the dudes running the place could treat their inmates - us - however they wanted. Yeah, I guess we /were/ technically inmates. We weren't allowed to leave, after all, and we /were/ tortured. So brutally, Peter…"

Peter shivered at the dark tone in Wade's voice and the distant look in his eyes. What had /happened/ to him at this strange facility?

"It was all to make this recessive gene - well, I won't bore you with the science" - Wade glanced at him and grinned slightly - "although I'm sure you of all people wouldn't mind it. Anyway, when it was all over, I was…was superhuman. I had regenerative powers, super strength, agility, precision - the works. I went back home and - and now I'm just trying to use my powers for good. And if some people have to die while I'm doing that, so be it." His voice had taken on a steely quality that, quite frankly, scared Peter.

He took a deep breath. Peter knew what he had to do. "Wade…"

Wade glanced at him, waiting.

"Will you work with me?"

"Work with you?" Wade's brow furrowed in confusion.

"Yeah. Fighting crimes in a…not-murdery way."

Wade was silent for a long moment, his expression unreadable. "Sure," he finally decided, a slow smile spreading over his face, and Peter's heart lifted. "What do I have to lose? My family's gone."

Peter summoned the last of his courage. "No," he said, "it's not."

Wade smiled at him, a genuine smile. "Thank you, Peter."

Peter nodded and, before he could do something stupid, walked to the edge of the building and crawled down into his bedroom. Wade came down in a few minutes and retreated to his living room bed without looking at Peter again.

Peter was so tired and in pain from his minor sears that he didn't bother to change out of his Spidey suit for quite some time. Instead, he sat on the edge of his bed, thinking.

Finally, he crossed his room to the full-length mirror and stared at himself, pulling off his mask slowly. "I am working with Wade Wilson - Deadpool," he whispered disbelievingly. A slow grin spread over his face. Was this /actually/ his life? He would have to tell Ned all about it - /if/ Wade gave him permission to share his secret identity. Peter wouldn't reveal Wade's secrets like he had accidentally revealed his own.

For now, he would change into some normal clothes.

He stripped out of his suit and pulled on a pair of jeans. Every movement hurt, so he changed slowly, and he could see angry red patches on his arms and chest where he had been singed. They would be hell to cover up from Aunt May, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it.

His door creaked open and he turned nervously, still instinctively expecting Aunt May to be in the doorway, asking what he wanted for dinner, her eyes widening as she saw his injuries.

Instead, Wade leaned against the doorframe, watching him with an unfathomable expression in his eyes.

"Hey." Peter said uncertainly.

Wade took a step into Peter's room and swung the door shut behind him. Before Peter could ask him what he was doing, Wade had crossed the room and grabbed Peter's shoulders, kissing him.

Peter gasped, drawing back instinctively in surprise and finally letting himself relax into the kiss. It wasn't gentle or sweet. Instead, it was desperate, furious. Peter's heart was racing furiously. He grabbed Wade's biceps to keep himself from collapsing, as lightheaded as he felt. Wade just kissed him harder.

Finally, one of them pulled away - Peter wasn't sure who. Wade rested his forehead on Peter's. Both boys were panting for breath.

"Oh," Peter whispered, his brain empty of all coherent thoughts except for shock.

"Agreed," Wade replied huskily, chest heaving.

"Boys?" Aunt May called innocently from the living room. "What do you want for dinner?"

Wade tore himself away from Peter and strolled out of the latter's bedroom, starting a casual conversation with May as he did so. Peter stared after him, still gasping for air.

He collapsed backwards onto his bed, a huge smile spreading over his face. Maybe his life /was/ a mess. Maybe Deadpool /had/ kill people. Maybe he was in over his head with it all.

But at least he could figure it out with Wade.


	14. UPDATE

In honor of the release of "Deadpool 2," I had uploaded this story to the popular fanfiction site Archive Of Our Own, also known as Ao3. This version is edited and polished, so I would reccomend reading that version anyway, but here's the fun part: since I had so much fun rereading the story and decided that I didn't really like the ending, **I am posting new chapters to Ao3!** If you want to read those new chapters and see where this story goes, you'll have to go check out the Ao3 version!

Thanks to anyone who's read this far and who's left a kind comment!


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